The Lying, the Witch, and the Werewolf (Down & Dirty Supernatural Cleaning Services Book 4) Kate Quinn (read this if txt) 📖

definitely not have her super sweet house and money to fund this place. But it doesn’t feel like they’re just humoring Kama with her whole ‘my dead dog talks to me’ thing. Judging from Seraphina—and the bowed heads all around me—they all believe it. On the other hand, though, it’s also hard to believe that Kama is the one playing them. I guess it’s possible that the whole crazy lady thing is an act, but if it is, Kama sure is selling it. I’ve got a sick feeling in my gut again. Hairy Underwood isn’t the only thing rotting in Denmark.

But he’s definitely the only dead thing in the room. The incubus salt is tearing through the diners like a five-alarm fire. It almost feels like a religious ceremony with all the people now screaming out, “YES!” and “Oh gods oh gods oh gods.”

“You’re welcome,” Priapus keeps saying in response to those cries.

“Hey guys, check this out,” one man says, and I watch in horrified fascination as he unwinds a thread from the tablecloth and ties it around the base of his penis. Then he crosses his arms behind his head, and with an incredibly focused look on his face, jerks his hips backwards. The tablecloth skids out from under my fingertips to reveal a highly polished cherry table beneath it…and not a single piece of dishware has moved.

The few people who aren’t already otherwise engaged give the performer a round of applause, but I’ve seen enough. Of everything. I’m out of my seat and headed for the door, even as I hear Seraphina shouting behind me.

“Paige, wait! We haven’t gotten to dessert—cream-filled nut balls—yet!”

17

I stalk out of the dining room and down the steps of the mansion into the night, curling my arms around me for warmth. Right now my yurt seems like the safest place to go, so I head for it, pulling the flap shut behind me. There’s nothing even resembling a lock—I can’t even tie the thing shut.

“Dammit,” I say, kicking at the pieces of broken toothbrush still lying on the ground. Actually, it might be a good thing it’s no longer working. If it were, I might tell Nico to come get me right damn now, and sort out this freakshow on his own. Because I’m done. I’ve seen enough, and I want to go home.

Home…which I share with my pixie ex-sister-in-law who is spying on my former boyfriend who I turned into a vampire against his will.

“Shit,” I say, suddenly aware that I’m crying. I wipe at my eyes madly, frustration and anger all bubbling to the top in the form of tears.

Except it’s not just frustration and anger that I’m feeling. There’s something else, too. Something that made me get up and run out of that lovefest. And it had nothing to do with being repulsed.

I miss Liam.

Not just him as a person, although he was great, but also what he represented. The hope of having a normal guy. And a normal life.

VSK killed that hope along with Liam. And I guess my refusing to let Liam die contributed too.

Fuck. I pause, my hand halfway to the broom that will magically whisk me away as soon as it is between my legs and feels the highs of my emotions. I pull my hand back and take a deep breath.

Okay, so I miss Liam, and that’s really why I bolted. Fine. I cross my arms and wipe away the last stray tear. What exactly am I supposed to do with that news flash?

“Paige? Can I come in?”

There’s a soft voice outside of my yurt, one I don’t recognize, but doesn’t sound threatening at all. Not that I need to be afraid of someone doing something against my will—I remember the man using the telephone earlier, and how he’d automatically backed away from me when the spell Adorra had cast around me let him know I wasn’t interested.

I realize with a touch of surprise that I haven’t felt in danger once since being here...unless you count my sanity.

I open the flap and stick my head out to find Seamus the satyr standing in the moonlight.

“Hey,” he says, one of his hooves scratching at the ground nervously. “I’m sorry that dinner was so upsetting for you.”

“No, it’s…” I shake my head. “It wasn’t really dinner that upset me,” I admit.

He nods, like maybe he gets it. “I brought you some food—utterly free of incubus interference, I promise.”

He hands me a little brown baggy with some grease stains in the corners, and I nod for him to follow me into the yurt. When he does, he lifts his palm and a little sconce hanging from the center begins to glow, illuminating the room.

“They didn’t show me how to turn it on,” I say, diving into my burger. “Kind of unfair that it’s a magic light in a human’s yurt.”

“It’s not magic,” Seamus says, covering a smile. “It’s just a motion-sensor light. I guess you must not be…moving around a lot in here.”

I feel a blush rising. Yes, it’s true that I came to a sex cult and then took a lot of naps.

Seamus’ mouth twists like he’s about to make a joke, then thinks better of it. “I have to admit that Adorra may not be the most thorough tour guide.”

“No,” I say, finishing off my burger. “I feel like she left a lot of things out.”

Things like tainted chocolate, why she’s having yelling matches with the wife of a Humans First politician, and what exactly Vicky and Seraphina are working on in the lab.

“A. Lot. Of. Things.” I repeat pointedly, causing Seamus to scratch the ground with his hoof again.

“Look,” he says. “I can’t let you in on inner circle stuff, Paige. I just can’t. All I can do is ask you to trust me when I tell you that no one is being hurt or mishandled in any way here.”

I snort and look away, but it’s mostly just for show. I don’t know this